


If I Am A Stranger

by inlovewithnight



Series: Soulbonded Ways [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	If I Am A Stranger

Mikey's first broken heart is a mess and a half, made worse by the fact that Gerard is pretty sure most of it is sort of his fault.

Not deliberately, of course; he wouldn't hurt Mikey on purpose, for more than just the standard not-being-a-dick reasons. The thing about being in each other's heads the way they are is that it means hurting each other is hurting the other half of yourself. And they can't lie to each other at all. It makes what would otherwise be typical sibling tortures both ineffective and not at all funny.

Of course, another thing about being in each other's heads is that when Mikey hits puberty, when he starts _wanting_ , he's already been there once before by proxy. It isn't quite the same unfocused, frustrating desire that his friends and classmates are going through; he knows _exactly_ what he wants, he knows through Gerard what it feels like to get it, and he doesn't have any patience for waiting around for his peers to catch up.

He's like a kid who eavesdropped on his older brother's conversations and stole his porn, only with added sensory detail and a strong conviction that he already knows everything he needs to know and doesn't want to listen anymore. Gerard sort of feels responsible for creating a monster.

But he's got his own stuff going on, school and friends and hobbies of his own, so he mostly just tries to ignore it, to let the constant ongoing stream of frustration and flares of anger and swirls of slightly over-the-top despair--not to mention _incredibly detailed_ fantasies, Jesus, kid--just be background noise in his head. Plus, while they never really had a native concept of "mine" and "yours" (everything was always "ours," which was a linguistic tic that confused the hell out of a lot of babysitters and teachers until Gerard and Mikey got old enough to catch themselves), they're ideas that really appeal to adolescent petulance and temper. Gerard hadn't gotten much use out of them, since Mikey was young enough at that point to take _get out of my head, can't I have any fucking thing for myself?_ seriously and be hurt. Now that it's Mikey's turn, though, he's racking up the mileage on them, and it's easier to step back and put up a mental barrier than to invite Tantrum Part Six Hundred: The Revenge.

Okay, maybe Gerard's still got some petulance of his own. But _Jesus_ , Mikey is _difficult_ right now, and it's kind of a relief to take him at his word and give him space.

The practical outcome is that he's not paying great attention. And then one afternoon he's sketching and snaps the pencil right in half between his fingers because that is _not_ background noise, all of a sudden, that is a babble of emotion-sensation-excitement-confusion that translates as his fifteen-year-old brother getting laid.

He doesn't mean to get pulled in, but Mikey's not shielding at all and Gerard is too surprised to stop himself. His dick is hard so fast it hurts and he shoves his sketchbook aside, closing his eyes and fumbling with his jeans while Mikey's feelings race through him, overwhelming and fast and everything turned up to eleven. Mikey knows he's there, and holds on tight, tangling Gerard even deeper into the mess of his head. Apparently for the moment, the idea of having something for himself is set aside, and Gerard understands why; he's always been there, always been part of everything, why shouldn't he be part of this?

Mikey comes in a wash of white and red, and Gerard bites his lip, slowing his hand on himself. Okay, that's over, Mikey's done, he can extract himself back into his own head and just--

 _no/stay/stay/help_

Gerard stills. _? help?_

Mikey's thoughts are all tinged with embarrassment and excitement and it's hard to sort the signal from the noise. _don't know how/help_

It takes another minute of digging around in the mess to realize that Mikey is asking him to walk him through giving a blow job, and okay, he _really_ hasn't been paying attention to Mikey lately if he missed that he not only has someone he's messing around with, but that it's a guy.

Mikey is distinctly impatient with his surprise ( _doesn't matter/come on/help_ ), and Gerard's just scrambled enough to give in again, to take a breath and move back into Mikey's head and settle into the split-consciousness feeling of shifting around on his own bed, jerking himself off as slowly as he can stand, while at the same time tugging against fingers tangled in his hair and trying not to gag at the warm solid pressure on his tongue, remembering to breathe in both bodies, finding a rhythm and trying to ignore the way it hurts his throat and the edges of his mouth just a little bit just because it's new.

And then it's over and Mikey's ridiculously, stupidly pleased with himself and completely overwhelmed at the same time, which is going to make it impossible for Gerard to concentrate on anything until he has a chance to talk to him, touch him, settle him. _come home?_ he thinks at Mikey, putting in as much affection as he can and hoping it will cover up the concern.

 _yes/soon_ Mikey sends back, and Gerard moves away back into his own head, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think for a while.  
**  
Mikey is a little red-faced and still pretty giddy, sitting cross-legged on his bed and flipping through his math book less because he's doing math and more to keep his hands busy. Gerard has Mikey's restless energy crawling through him, too, and he draws endless relentless spirals, using up the last pages of his sketchbook.

"So what's his name?" he asks, and Mikey flies through a chapter of geometry without stopping.

"Derek."

Gerard nods and takes a break from spirals to sketch out a cube. "Is he in one of your classes, or..."

Mikey laughs a little. "No."

Gerard glances up at him. Mikey is _smug_. Gerard really, really hasn't been paying attention, and so Mikey has successfully kept a secret, which okay, maybe is kind of a big deal. Gerard would probably think so, too, if it wasn't so completely awkward. "How do you know him, then?"

Mikey closes the book and looks at him intently, and Gerard bites his lip, because Mikey's unfiltered excitement is giving him a little bit of a headache. "Don't tell Mom, okay?"

Gerard winces slightly and draws a heavy X through the cube. That has about an even chance of meaning two different things, either something profoundly stupid or something that's going to lead to them both being in trouble.

"Hey, if you think I'm _stupid_ then I don't have to tell you at all," Mikey snaps, smacking Gerard's arm with the textbook.

"Ow. Quit it. You're not stupid." He reaches out and nudges Mikey's knee with his pencil. "Tell me."

Mikey grins, crooked and shy and _so_ fucking excited. People who got to have secrets as a normal thing probably never got this excited. "He works at the comic store."

Gerard doesn't really believe his heart skips a beat, but something weird definitely happens in his chest. "Derek at the comic store?"

"Yeah."

"Derek at the comic store is older than _me_."

Mikey's smile fades. "So?"

Derek at the comic store is, in fact, if Gerard's on-the-fly flabbergasted mental math is correct, a good _bit_ older than Gerard is. Like...twenty-five, he's pretty sure. Which makes...oh, _fuck_. "Mikey, I'm pretty sure that's not...legal."

Mikey's anger is like somebody hitting Gerard in the head from the inside. "Don't mess this up for me."

"I'm not...I'm not trying to mess anything up, I'm just..."

"He _likes_ me." Gerard takes a deep breath at that and Mikey hits him with the book again. "Fuck you, he _does_."

Gerard stops trying to talk, just thinks and feels at him, and Mikey shakes his head wildly, waving his arms and slamming up the most effective barrier he's managed yet. Gerard is going to have _such_ a goddamn headache for hours after this.

"Stay out," Mikey says. "Just stay the hell out. And you promised you wouldn't tell Mom. If you're going to be an asshole, then just mind your own business. I don't care. I don't."

Gerard _does_ care, though, a lot, and he's really not going to stop just because Mikey tells him to. Pretty much the exact opposite.  
**  
The problem is that there's nothing he can do. He can't lie to Mikey, it's literally not possible. So he can't accidentally-on-purpose tip off their parents, or anybody else; if he does, Mikey will ask him if it was him, and bam, pain and anger echoing in his head for _days_. It would be like stabbing himself in the arm. And Mikey wouldn't trust him anymore, for who knows how long, and that would...suck. Hurt. Be unbearable.

He can't go talk to Derek, for the same reason. Talking to Mikey himself is an exercise in futility. He can't do _shit_ , except develop a small ulcer from having a front-row seat to Mikey having sex with the guy three afternoons a week.

He's pretty sure Derek's being good to Mikey, in all of the technical senses; God knows Mikey's enjoying himself physically. There's no hitting or coercion or anything like that, so Gerard doesn't have to set the guy's house on fire. It's just...they're in different places. Mikey's not ready for this relationship and these expectations. This is making him grow up too fast.

Gerard feels like an old lady, or a Dear Abby column or something, just _thinking_ this shit. He can only imagine what Mikey's response would be if he said any of it out loud.

Probably something sharp and spiteful, like the one time Gerard did try to talk to him after that first night. _What do you care, you're so busy, you haven't even been around._ Fuck. Lay on the guilt, kid, he's not quite shaking yet.  
**  
In the end, he doesn't have to do anything. He should've seen that coming. Mikey is fifteen, which means he's careless and impulsive and sloppy. Their mom is really pretty smart, and she keeps a sharper eye on her kids than either of them ever figure out until it's too late. Gerard probably should know that by now.

He gets home from class one night with the worst headache yet from this whole fucking circus pounding between his eyes and finds her sitting at the kitchen table smoking. He forces a smile and reminds himself that he isn't supposed to know, he isn't supposed to have had Mikey's screams of outrage in the back of his head all day. "Hey, Mom. What's up? You look tired."

She shakes her head slowly and waves her lighter at him. "Your brother," she says, and nods toward the stairs. "Your brother."

Gerard can't really think of anything to say to that, especially with the weary emphasis on the repetition, so he just nods, too, and goes to find Mikey.

He finds him in bed, facing the wall and with the blankets pulled up around him like a cocoon. Gerard sets his stuff down and stretches out next to him, staring up at the ceiling.

Neither of them says anything. After about fifteen minutes, Gerard reaches out and rubs up and down Mikey's back, slow and careful.

Mikey gives a shaky, broken exhale and turns to face him, burrowing up against Gerard's side. _not fair/not fair/hurts_

"'m sorry," Gerard says quietly, and he knows Mikey knows he means it. Can't lie. If he means _I'm sorry you're hurting_ and not _I'm sorry this happened_ , well, the _sorry_ is still true.

They lie there for a little while longer before Mikey starts crying, and Gerard wraps his arms around him and holds him, and doesn't say anything more at all, just counts heartbeats.  



End file.
